


The King and the Princess

by Polkat (aralias)



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: April Showers 2015, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-31
Updated: 2003-07-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/Polkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her first night in Corus Thayet is led by Faithful to Myles' library where she meets Tortall's king for the first time. Cue: Embarressment, Bewilderment and something that might be Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King and the Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading old fic for April Showers 2015. All spelling/grammar errors left as originally posted.

_Wake up princess._

Thayet mumbled something about not being a princess any more and turned over in her sleep away from the black cat that perched precariously on the end of her bed. It yowled loudly as her movement pulled the sheets he had been standing on from beneath his feet and padded across her shoulders towards her face once more.

_Wake up Thayet._

She smiled unconsciously and raised one eyelid. "Hello Faithful," she murmured drowsily. "Can't sleep huh?" The cat purred and licked her face with its pink, papery tongue. She managed to disentangle one hand and caressed the ebony fur. "What time is it?"

The cat merely mewed softly, rubbed its head against her fingers and jumped from the bed. Resigned to the fact that she was now awake, Thayet raised herself from the bed. Faithful was waiting by the doorway, it was slightly a jar and the light from the corridor beyond washed over him gently, turning his coat a dusty grey. "Did you know for a cat you're incredibly transparent," Thayet grumbled, reaching for the dressing gown draped over the chair next to her. "Why not just come right out and say  _follow me_?"

Now you're just being ridiculous. Cats don't talk and besides, that would be too obvious even for me.

Thayet shook her head. It was obviously very early; cats  _didn't_  talk. Pulling Eleni's purple cotton around her tightly she walked to the door opening it wide enough for the cat to slip through like the rest of the shadows in her room. Still yawning Thayet followed him through the palace, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet.

It felt good to stop being a king and just cry softly into the Lionesses neck, smelling the dusty smell of the road that still clung to her hair and the subtle scent that was hers alone. He thought about apologising for crying all over her, but knew he didn't want to and that she didn't mind. Worse than his mother's death had been his father's suicide. Just knowing that the king didn't see the fact his son was alive as a good enough reason for his continued existence… For a while Jon had seriously considering following King Roald into the next world but at the last moment his courage failed him. While Roger lived he would never let the throne go willingly. His cousin might not have any magic left but the man was still a snake, not to be trusted.

"We may not have another chance to be alone for a while. What do you want me to do with the Jewel?"

His arms still around Alanna Jon breathed deeply.  _This could mean everything._  "You really have it?"

"I'll get it if you like." She moved away and the king felt the bottom of his heart drop away again. "Not yet, all right?" He tightened the grip around her. "This is so comfortable. It's been almost a year since I held you remember?"

So for a moment they stayed like that, Jonathan clinging desperately to Alanna and to the past that could never be again. She would never marry him. Alanna was the Lioness, she was not a queen and she did not want what he had to offer, whatever that was. It had been love once, now he wasn't so sure. He hugged her once more and released his hold on her. "Keep it safe for now."

Still following the black wraith in front of her Thayet stumbled sleepily through the unfamiliar hallways. "Where are we going?" she asked, hoping the cat would not reply again. Faithful merely turned a corner and they entered a corridor she recognised. The ancient library doors stood open the flickering fire light from the room beyond spilling out into the candlelit corridor. The soft buzz of low voices grew louder as Faithful wormed through the gap; Thayet grinned tiredly and followed him.

"To old friends."

"So mote it be." That was Alanna. The princess pushed the door open slowly, meaning to surprise her knight friend as George Cooper muttered, "here here." But as it swung open she realised that Alanna and George were not the only people in the room, "oh I'm sorry!" Her hands flew to her hair, which stuck out from her head in wisps and then to the dressing gown, which was, she realised mortified, very low cut and extremely see through, her night-gown clearly visible through the thin material.

The man who wasn't George or Alanna turned piercing blue eyes onto her. "Great Merciful Mother!" he breathed.

Thayet blushed and gripped the robe at her neck more tightly. "Faithful woke me up," she explained weakly, wondering viciously whether the lady knight would very much miss the animal, which was now winding its way around Alanna's feet, if it met with a very unfortunate accident "and then I couldn't sleep."

The man with the glorious eyes was still staring at her in a way that was both intimidating and oddly exhilarating; Thayet tried to look anywhere that he wasn't.  _Down. Down was good._  Unfortunately now she could see that her feet were still bare, she flushed harder and tried to conceal them under the hem of the robe. George was saying something but she wasn't really listening. "There's a seat by the fire –- over next to Jon."

Jonathan realised he was still sitting down in a kind of surprised haze. The girl was moved towards him as he pushed himself uncertainly to his feet and tried to look regal and kingly and less like an awe struck first year page.  _What was he doing? Perhaps he should bow and kiss her hand… no that was something Roger would do._  Then despite deciding this he took her hand without really knowing why just knowing it was right and raised it to his lips. He looked up from the softly calloused fingers enclosed in his and into her puzzled eyes. Beneath the beautiful hazel and her embarrassment at appearing in her night-clothes in front of a perfect stranger lurked a sparkle of intelligence and rebellion. He reached into his Gift to try and probe the fascinating depths further but she chose that moment to withdraw her hand, which he had not realised he was still holding. "We haven't been introduced," she remarked dryly. Jon blinked several times in bewilderment until he realised this was probably not making a good impression and merely concentrated on staring at the incredible person before him.

"Thayet  _jian_  Wilima, may I present Jonathan of Conté? Are you officially 'King' now, Jon, or does that wait till the coronation?"

So he was the King. That explained the midnight beard and hair and the sparkling blue eyes that seemed to be examining her soul.

"Does the introduction meet your standards, your Highness?" He appeared to be trying to make up for his earlier confusion and now his voice was cold and official although she could sense the humour that dwelt beneath it. Now they were playing a game she understood. Grinning inwardly Thayet swept a deep curtsy, forgetting that she was clad in a cheep violet dressing gown rather than a ball gown, forgetting that she was revealing her silken nightie, forgetting everything that was not Jonathan of Conté. When she had practised the proper curtsy for greeting a king back in Sarain, she had of course been clad in real skirts, but her eyes had always been downcast in apparent submission. Now however Thayet found that she did not want to look at his feet. The way the corner of his mouth twitched when he was amused and couldn't show it, the way he held himself stiffly hoping she would never see how nervous he was, that was far more interesting than the expensive shoes on his feet. "I am 'Highness' no longer, your Majesty. My father is dead, and I am an exile. I hope to become your Majesty's loyal, low-born subject." The king tried harder not to smile and she inclined her head at last. From across the room she could hear Alanna's sigh of envy and the mood broke as a giggle burst forth from her.

She was laughing now, loudly and joyfully, not the calm contained laugh of the courtier but a true laugh that made him grin broadly and forget for a moment that his family had deserted him and that soon he'd have to bear the responsibility of the lives of a country. Still chuckling quietly to herself she settled regally into the chair next to him and graciously accepted the cup of expensive red tea from George. They talked about many things that night, none of which he could remember on the morrow but years later he could still recall the feeling as her small hand worked its way into his about two hours later and the warmth that surged through his body as he realised that, at last, he was sure about something.


End file.
